When I'm Falling Down
by quinndalynn
Summary: Left alone by his so-called Nordic 'family' once again, Iceland grapples with the monster inside, meanwhile pondering how he only truly thinks himself to be alive when he's falling. T for drug use, addict!Iceland. Now a series of angsty drabbles.
1. Chapter 1  When I'm Falling Down

**When I'm Falling Down**

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><p>"I come alive...when I'm falling down." - The Used, "I Come Alive"<p>

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Key:

_'Iceland's regular thoughts'_

**The demonic voice in Iceland's mind**

regular story font

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia - Axis Powers, or any of the bands/songs that influenced this fic.**

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><p>Closing his bedroom door to the world, the pale nation slid down the door until his bottom hit the plush maroon shag carpeted floor. Crawling over to his dresser, he pulled open the bottom drawer with shaking hands.<p>

'_They didn't care…Even when I told them, they didn't care.'_ Finding his equipment buried underneath the mounds of clothes, he left his drawer open and haphazard in his haste to quicken the process.

'_Goddammit! They don't care…I'm just a burden, I've always been the one they don't want to stay home and take care of…'_

'**That's right…they don't need a fifth wheel like you in their fun.'**

Clenching his fists and dropping lower to the floor, Iceland cried out. "Shut up!" His own voice was strangled with pain, laced with weakness. "Why don't you ever shut up!"

The voice only carried on its depressing tirade, causing Iceland to grasp at the carpet with clawed hands.** 'Why would you want the truth to be suppressed? I only tell you what cannot be denied. Tell me that it isn't true that they didn't want you at the bar with them because you would be a buzz kill. Tell me that it isn't true that they don't want you. Tell me that it isn't true that **_**they don't care about you.**_**'**

"Just…be quiet!" Regaining control of his mind, he found the small chunk of black tar and placed it on the bottom of the soda can. Grabbing a bottle of water, he poured a few milliliters on the spoon***** and grabbed the lighter and the nail. Heating the bottom of the spoon and stirring until the mixture was dissolved and smoothed, he placed a small piece of cotton on the scrap metal. Sucking up the heroin into the syringe through the cotton, he almost felt relief. Almost.

It wasn't until he'd injected the smack into his vein that he really felt at peace. And then he felt everything else, too. He could feel his mind working, he could feel his soul tripping along the H-train, lower and lower, low enough to send him straight into oblivion, the hole that he'd been searching for within himself that brought such euphoria was found. He could feel it all, so glorified.

He could only hear snippets of the voice whispering in his mind, but it was calming, like his brother's when he had actually cared for Iceland. **'That's okay, you did it, you can always do it, this is what's right, falling so nicely is what gets you happy, anything for your happiness…' **

Right now, Iceland couldn't even think about the events of earlier, when his so-called 'family' had rejected him again, even when he had said that he felt lonely. Even when he told them that his mind was eating him from the inside out. They just chuckled, thinking he was trying to be funny, trying to gain attention, not really knowing that he was alone in the world in the most literal sense. They simply walked out the door, telling him not to get into too much trouble while they had fun losing themselves on the dance floor in a mish-mash of lust and love while he lost himself in a world of syringes and track marks that dotted his arms like a grotesque piece of art. Their ignorance had led him to the monster yet again - and if they had ever noticed any of his rather blatant signs of drug abuse, then they hadn't cared.

He knew that later, in a matter of hours, he would come crashing back to the surface, reality would be a reality again, and he would have to face the painful loneliness with the harsh voice again, but right now – right now, he felt alive because he was falling down.

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><p><strong>* A spoon is a druggie term for the bottom of a soda can. It's used to heat up heroin.<strong>

**_AN: So, instead of redoing my 'Addict' story, I deleted it (because it was total crap), and just replaced it with this._**

**_Er, these are the songs that I listened to while writing this:_**

**_I Come Alive - The Used (this song is what gave this fic the title, and made me write the fic in the first place)_**

**_The Bird and The Worm - The Used _**

**_Louder Than Thunder - The Devil Wears Prada _**

**_You don't have to listen to them, but I would suggest it. Because, not only are they good songs, but they really go with the story._**

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><p><strong><em>EDIT, 39/12: I turned this into a multi-chapter fic of somewhat-related angsty drabbles. Yay! Have fun, and hopefully you'll continue reading._**


	2. Chapter 2  Help Me Get Away

**Help Me Get Away**

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><p>"(Help me) I've got no soul to sell<p>

(Help me) The only thing that works for me

Help me get away from myself...

I want to fuck you like an animal." - Nine Inch Nails, "Closer"

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**Beware, there is some (totally non-graphic) sex. But, if you're this far, you've read some descriptive heroin use, and probably a whole lot of swearing. (Not that I checked to see if I swore, but I tend to do so...a lot.) So you probably, y'know, _don't care._**

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**Disclaimer: Like hell I own this fucking great anime.**

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><p>Sometimes, Iceland would look around at the world's relationships, and he would notice the power that Finland grasped within Sweden's heart, the control that Norway held over Denmark, the hate and love between France and England. All of it was inequality in Iceland's eyes.<p>

But then Iceland would ponder over the details of his and Hong Kong's relationship. Only between them did he truly see balance.

There was no real love or affection, no, there was certainly none of that. But, in essence, they gave each other exactly what the other needed, nothing more, nothing less. They traded understanding and acceptance.

Iceland knew, without a doubt, that he'd never be able to change Hong Kong's flirty affair with pain. In the same way, Hong Kong fully understood that he couldn't do anything about Iceland's tenacious addiction to heroin. They accepted it, never questioned it.

It was on these grounds that the two had met, having faded to the background yet again at one world meeting, their families ignoring them as always. Locking eyes from across the room, they immediately recognized the signs of another nation's guilt and shame. Almost telepathically, they skipped out of the meeting at nearly the same time, Iceland twitching with the need for another hit, Hong Kong, his arms sore and well-hidden under the long sleeves of his qi pao. They quickly bonded, and the two became as inseparable as was possible. No PDA, they didn't want to out themselves. Keeping skeletons in their closet was something they were used to, something that felt right, and besides, a secret made it all the more fun in such a business-like relationship, right?

On some nights Iceland and Hong Kong would have sex (never make love), after feeding each of their inner monsters, losing themselves in an intoxicating mix of blood, pain, drugs, and lust. Sloppy, yes, but pleasure-filled nonetheless.

When they awoke, sunlight filtering through half shut blinds and glinting off of syringes and razors, they would realize that only they were equals in this world, no matter how twisted they seemed.

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><p><em><strong>AN: So, I turned this into a series of inter-related drabbles about dysfunctional families, relationships, minds, and drugs. About Iceland. Next one will probably be about Iceland, from the Nordic family's view. What do you think?<strong>_

_**I guess all the drabbles in this series will be based on some very angsty songs and such. Pseudo-songfics, much?**_

_**Who actually gives a fuck?**_

_**Songs listened to:**_

_**"The Bay" - Metronomy (this song had nothing to do with the fic, though. They did say "Hong Kong" in the song, but it was unrelated. Oooh, that rhymed.)**_

_**"Sex Ain't Love" - Madam Adam**_

_**"Closer" AKA "Fuck You Like An Animal" - Nine Inch Nails**_

_**I guess I'll see you soon?...yeah, soon. Maybe.**_


	3. Chapter 3 This Is Not A Home

**This House Is Not A Home**

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><p>"By the time you come home I'm already stoned." - Three Days Grace, "Home"<p>

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Not the webcomic, not the published manga, not the anime.**

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><p>It was never their plan. They'd never fully thought it out and said, "Why don't we just blow off Iceland?" Instead, it was something that had gradually occurred, like threads unraveling on a rather old blanket.<p>

Most days the nations had work to attend to, papers to be signed. On the few nights when they weren't busy with paperwork, when they were released from conferences, the nations went out to the same bars, invading clubs in cliques like locusts. It had been the same for centuries with the Nordics, even before modern-day offices and clubs, before they had gained independence from Denmark: Iceland was far too innocent, not mature enough, the proverbial "baby" of the family.

When Iceland was younger, Norway would unceremoniously shove him into of Denmark's mansion's back rooms whenever Finland and Sweden brought out the vodka.

Looking back, the Nordics realized the stupidity of their actions (after all, he would figure out what liquor was eventually), but they hadn't wanted Iceland's innocence to be tainted. Even now, they denied him the luxury of going to the bars with them, despite his arguments. Even if he couldn't legally drink, he wasn't going to be shocked by the presence of alcohol; he wouldn't be uncomfortable with the hazy feel of sex lurking in the air. Iceland had grown up far more than the Nordics had cared to notice.

As it was, the four of them were at their favorite NYC dance club right now, drinking and having a good time, decompressing from the day's conference. Norway, their designated driver, was practically giving a lap dance to Denmark out on the dance floor, a promise for more later. Finland and Sweden were trading body shots, a line of lemon wedges beside them. None of them gave any thought to the teenager back at the hotel. Their last cares given to him were wondering about the Asian boy besides him, and the way that the two seemed so bonded. Were they together? The Nordics had never noticed. Sure, they noticed that he had been more sullen, withdrawn lately, but wasn't that normal for teens?

When they arrived back at the hotel room, they were far too happy and drunk to notice the syringe near the bathroom door. Too blissful to notice the rubber tubing and lighter next to the Iceland's suitcase, which was haphazardly arranged. They were too inebriated to see the dark-haired Asian boy from earlier, the blood stains he'd left on the bed with Iceland, where the two were sharing a restless slumber.

In the morning, they were rushing to catch a flight or get back to the conference, too stressed to notice anything yet again. And by the time that the work was over and they were back in the hotel suite to freshen up before clubbing the maid had stopped by and cleaned away any traces of Iceland's activities.

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><p><em><strong>AN: I'm beginning to like writing this series way more than I like writing my crossover fic. Maybe I'll take a break from that one to work on this. Maybe think about plotlines and shit for the crossover. <strong>_

_**Songs listened to: **_

_**Home - Three Days Grace**_

_**Move Your Body - My Darkest Days**_

_**Faxing Berlin - deadmau5**_

_**Ok, so that last one had nothing to do with it, but hey, I need my daily dose of EDM. See y'all soon. I guess. The next one will probably focus on either the brothership between Norway and Iceland or on the Sid/Nancy relationship of Hong Kong and Iceland. (if you don't know who Sid & Nancy were, look em up. It's worth the read.)**_


	4. Chapter 4 Welcome to Chaos

**Welcome To Chaos**

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><p>"Welcome to chaos, do you recognize me?<p>

Where has all of your innocence gone, little one?

It's okay, let it go, don't you want to be free?

Where are all of your excuses now, little one?

It's so easy, let them go, turn yourself into me..." - Son of Rust, "Welcome to Chaos"

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**So, this is before Hong Kong and Icy meet. The Underground is just something that I made up off the top of my head. Don't take it too seriously. This is pretty much the story of how Ice turned to drugs.**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own the anime, just this sick fucking plot.**

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><p>Iceland jolted awake, a cold sheen covering his skin. He didn't remember much of his dream, other than the fact that it had scared him into consciousness.<p>

Removing the covers, he decided to nab some milk from Denmark's fridge to calm himself down. Padding down the hallway, he heard a moan followed by a whimper, a slow creak, and another moan. He froze in his tracks, and turned down the hallway past Finland and Sweden's (silent) room and paused in front of the master bedroom being shared by Denmark and Norway. A moan, a sigh, and then a rhythmic creaking began. Peering inside the slightly open door, Iceland could see the moonlight illuminating Norway's reddened face, the way his pale thighs were spread, how Denmark's muscles flexed with every thrust he made.

'He said he invited us over to bond more as a family. Bullshit. He just wanted Norway in his bed.' Shaking his head, Iceland forgot the milk in Den's fridge, and decided to just lay in bed, thinking about love; pondering the way that Norway could bruise Denmark by day and make supposed 'love' with him by night. Did that make love fake? Was there really no such thing as true affection and care? As dawn approached the horizon, Iceland vowed to never act so stupid. He would never be that vulnerable, right?

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><p>A year later, Iceland stepped into Denmark's living room again, having arrived for their "awesome new bonding tradition". Which Iceland thought funny, considering that Denmark was probably the only Nordic country who actually gave a shit.<p>

On the other hand, none of the Nordics gave a shit about Iceland. None of them had even noticed that little Icy was in love.

Over the past year, he'd begun dabbling in new crowds, mixing and mingling. He'd started hanging out with the Netherlands – who'd forgiven him for the financial problems – and Prussia, as well as a few of the others in the Underground. Nations often overlooked or misjudged had unofficially joined. Hong Kong, Canada, and South Italy were the newest 'members'. The Underground was pretty much the most badass group of all the nations, and Iceland was proud to be a part of it, even if no one else knew what it was. The members contributed to some of the world's most memorable parties, parties where people found what they needed – for Iceland, he'd found what completed him, the one thing that filled the void in his heart: heroin. Like a good friend, family member, or lover, the drug filled with happiness and sent him to euphoria.

As he and his supposed "family" settled around the table for dinner, he took only incredibly small portions. He wasn't hungry. Not much sustenance would make it onto gaunt frame, anyways. His lank hair sat tousled on his head, greasy, and messy. His eyes were sunken in, their usual brilliant violet dimmed. He pulled a hip flask from his belt and downed a few gulps of vodka. Screwing the cap back on, he saw that the rest of the table was still chit chatting, oblivious to his indiscretion. Only Sweden seemed to have noticed, but didn't say anything, of course.

Iceland didn't have a problem with being the odd one out now. It simply meant that he could shoot up without anyone stopping him. Maybe he could become friends with that Hong Kong kid…he seemed pretty cool.

He quietly slipped away from the table and went upstairs to go catch the dragon. He could feel Sweden's glare burn into his back, but he knew that the rest of the table was still socializing over cold stew. Yes, Iceland could certainly inject liquid happiness tonight. He smiled for the first time that day.

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><p><strong>AN: The only reasons that the Netherlands is part of the Underground is because a) I love him and b) everyone thinks him to be some major pedo druggie. Which he kinda is. Happy Easter, from an atheist. See you soon. Reviews are awesomer than Prussia.<strong>

**Should I just categorize this under HKIce?**

_**songs:**_

_**Lots of 'screamo' covers**_

_**"Welcome to Chaos" - Son of Rust**_

**_"Dealer" - DJ S3RL_ **


	5. Chapter 5 Nirvana

**Nirvana**

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><p>"Load up on guns, and bring your friends<p>

It's fun to play and to pretend.

She's overbored and self-assured,

Oh no, I know a dirty word..." - Nirvana, "Smells Like Teen Spirit"

**...**

**Warnings: semi-prostitution, more drugs, mentions of schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, eating disorders, etc. Not that you care. Sorry this is a bit short.**

**...**

**Disclaimers: No, I do not own Hetalia. Because if I were Himaruya, I would totally be on fanfiction.**

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><p>If Iceland were to admit that he had a problem, he would blame it on his "family".<p>

Norway and his delusional visions of fairies and monsters weren't solely to blame:

Finland's toothpick bones jutted out from under his skin, which was waxy and stretched gaunt from his eating disorders.

Denmark's tendency to swing violently from one mood to the next didn't help either.

Sweden, as always, was the grounded one: he _seemed _psychologically stable.

'Whatever,' Iceland thought, wiping cum from his mouth with the back of his hand. 'I don't have a problem to begin with.'

Having been jolted from his thoughts on mental disorders by the Netherlands' cumming, Iceland held out his palm for the heroin.

"Here it is," the Netherlands handed over a latex balloon – the black tar heroin was only from Iceland's body by a thin layer of rubber, like a drug condom. "Thanks for sucking me off," was the Netherland's parting sentiment. Iceland took no heed, instead choosing to prepare his next hit there on the dingy bathroom floor.

**:..:**

Iceland cracked an eye open, awaking to the smell of tobacco. Seeing a blurry mop of blond hair, Iceland opened the other eye to focus on – Sweden.

"I found you passed out on the bathroom floor of the convention center." Sweden took another long drag before continuing. "You're welcome to stay here in Stockholm for a few days, but, if you want, you can take a flight back to Reykjavíc after breakfast."

"I'm not hungry." Iceland's voice creaked like the floorboards at Norway's house – he sounded weak, pathetic, even to himself. A long silence followed, before being broken by Sweden.

"You know you have a problem."

"So what? It's not like you're fucking perfect!"

Sweden sucked in another lungful of tobacco smoke, glancing over at Iceland on his couch before returning his gaze back to the serene Stockholm suburb outside the open window. He answered, smoke dragged out by the wind and mingling with the salty sea air. "I know."

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><p><em><strong>Screw the songs. Just some good ol' Nirvana.<strong>_

**AN: I may expand each one of the disorders mentioned above into a drabble with Iceland's interaction, like this one. It'll be a little mini-series of drabbles called 'Nirvana". Of course, I may just ignore my previous plans, like I always do. 'Till next time, y'all...**

**Also, I didn't recagetorize it, as it really isn't HKIce. **

**I'm doing my best to answer reviews from chapter 4 and up now. **


	6. Chapter 6 Scary Monsters

**Scary Monsters And Nice Sprites**

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><p>"Our little group has always been, and always will until the end." - Nirvana, "Smells Like Teen Spirit"<p>

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: Don't own it.<strong>

**Warnings: Screw it. All I can say is: drabbles keep getting shorter. They'll get longer again after 'Nirvana' is done.**

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><p>Norway wasn't the best caretaker, to say the least. By American background check terms, he was highly unqualified. However, to Iceland, he did an okay job for being schizophrenic.<p>

When Iceland was younger, he used to worry that he was inadequate because he couldn't see the many pixies and trolls that his brother spoke of. He'd think that _he_ was the weird one for being unable to communicate with the fae. Instead, Iceland realized, _Norway_ was the odd one – none of the other Nordics could see the creatures either.

You could say that this upbringing would affect Iceland's present state of mind – but Iceland would just say that he'd learned to ignore his brother's schizophrenic episodes. He'd say that it hadn't affected him at all, but what a lie that was. To have your sole guardian – your hero, your big brother– lose all seeming reason was something that Iceland could never get used to. Screaming about unseen nightmarish demons, running around the house to evade phantoms – Norway would curl up in the fetal position in his broom closet until he'd calmed down. Obviously, to Iceland, this was quite frightening. His strong, unshakable idol wasn't quite what he seemed.

Presently sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with a syringe, Iceland recalled one such episode, one that ringed through his mind with Norway's prophetic words.

.::.

Over a century ago, Iceland.

They'd been eating lunch – fish soup – when Norway had suddenly paused, spoon midway to his mouth. His left eye twitched slightly, almost unnoticeably. For Iceland, it was a sign of what was to come. He tried bracing himself, but as always failed.

"It's him again. Oh god, he's standing _right there_." The 'he' that Norway spoke of, Iceland would never know. It was left to imagination – how gruesome or beautiful 'he' was, whether or not it had wings, what color the eyes were (if 'he' had any).

Preparing for the blood-curdling screams to begin, Iceland tried to take care of his care-taker. It was futile. He escaped from Iceland, though not seemingly from 'him', and rushed into another room. Iceland cringed, hearing the sound of shattering glass. He stood stockstill until the shrieking subsided.

Running to the bedroom, Iceland gaped at he saw: Norway had slashed a vein with a shard of glass, and used his fingers as a macabre marker against the creamy walls of the room. Though Norway was calm now, the words written reflected his inner turmoil.

'**Go away, you useless nuisance.' **

And, although Iceland knew it was meant for the recurring hallucination, he couldn't help but feel that it was for him.

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><p><strong>songs: <strong>

**Scary Monsters And Nice Sprites - Skrillex (the name of that song is so fitting, it's not even funny)**

**random Nirvana songs**

_**AN: New drabble. **_

_**Two things: the voice from the first chapter only happens when Iceland needs his next hit. So, next time I go in detail about taking hits, then the voice will return.**_

_**Secondly, Sweden really doesn't have any problems, other than taking care of his family. The cigarette from the last chapter was used as a prop - the smoke is ultra cool for some reason.**_

_**Anyways, next drabble of 'Nirvana' should be up soon. Exams are done. Reviews are appreciated, as always.**_


	7. Chapter 7 Super Psycho Love

**Super Psycho Love**

_**"Say that you want me everyday**_

_**That you want me every way**_

_**That you need me**_

_**Got me trippin' super psycho love." - Super Psycho Love, by Simon Curtis**_

**Warnings: Dub-con and slight abuse**

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><p>It was 1905.<p>

Days before, Norway had peacefully* resigned from the Swedish-Norwegian Union. This left Iceland as the only personification under Nordic control. Denmark was proud of this, but also insecure. How long would it take for Iceland to also try for independence? It was only a matter of time in Denmark's eyes.

But that didn't mean that Denmark wanted to let Iceland go.

Smirking cruelly as he stepped onto Icelandic shores*, Denmark made up his mind: he was going to make his limited time last as long as possible.

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><p>Iceland was jolted from his accidental slumber at the sound of incessant knocking on his front door. He'd fallen asleep doing late-night paperwork again… Glancing at the clock as he made his way to the unexpected visitor, he wondered who would bothering him at this hour of the night.<p>

Opening the front entrance, Iceland mentally facepalmed and realized that he should've known earlier – no one other than the King of Annoyance* himself stood at the threshold, fist poised over the door to knock again. With a devilish smirk plastered on his face and a murderous spark in his eye, Denmark let out a maniacal cackle from his chapped lips.

"Let me in, let me in, Icey."

Shocked by Denmark's unusually psychotic demeanor, Iceland conceded to the Dane's request and further opened the door. It wasn't as if he'd had a choice.

The man practically owned him, after all.

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><p>As the Icelandic teen readied the shot glass and aquavit he'd saved for occasions like these, Denmark stopped him.<p>

"Now, now, there won't be any need for that. I merely came to talk about nation-ly things. Pardon me for wanting to be sober while we discuss topics of importance."

"If you only came to my house to talk, then why did you want to do it at this hour?"

At this, Denmark cocked his mouth in a fashion that was now familiar to Iceland, and the expression on his normally jovial face screamed insanity. Denmark seemed to be reveling in some sort of an inside joke, and Iceland didn't like it all. "Well, I know that your aides usually stay here until about 6 or 7, and I wanted to talk to you alone."

And alone he was, as even Mr. Puffin had gone to a geothermal retreat for the night. As dread began to pool in his gut, Iceland started to regret ever having opened his door.

"Why do you want me alone?" Iceland nervously asked.

"Oh, you'll see in a bit." Denmark plopped himself into Iceland's loveseat, gesturing for Iceland to sit across from him on the couch. "But for now, let's just talk."

"Yes, um, well what did you want to talk about?..." Iceland sat as directed, flushing in anger. In the years of being Denmark's charge, never once had the Dane pulled rank on him like this. Maybe as nations, sure, but as people they had always been civil towards one another. Yet, right now, Denmark was ordering him to sit like a dog. Earlier, he had even rudely invited himself in. Iceland, however, kept his anger in check, as he didn't want to provoke Denmark further. Although he wasn't quite sure what had provoked him in the first place… Maybe –

For the second time in less than 10 minutes, Iceland was pulled from his thoughts by Denmark. "Y'know how Norway left Sweden?"

Iceland nodded. Of course he knew, that had been the cause of all his extra paperwork. But why –

Oh. That what had Denmark on edge. But Norway and Sweden weren't really Denmark's business, figuratively anyways. So why was Denmark so upset about it? Could it be that –

"I came here to make sure that you wouldn't do the same to me."

Iceland paled. His eyes widened as a memory from years past popped into his head – Sweden warning Iceland of Denmark's odd moods and desertion issues. Sweden had given Iceland some good advice: when Denmark's disorder finally appeared to go in remission,* as it tends to do every few years, try to keep everything as stable as possible. The calmer Denmark's surroundings were, the less likely that disease was to rear its ugly head.

The flashback took only a second to process, but Iceland had at least figured out what Denmark's trigger was, as well as the finger laid upon it. Abandonment and the imminent threat of it didn't sit too well with Denmark.

No wonder the usually cheerful man had flipped moods. It must be like a dangerous switch inside him.

Scooting to one side of the loveseat and patting the empty space next to him, Denmark called to Iceland. "Come sit next to me, Icey."

Iceland complied, and flushed harder, this time out of embarrassment, rather than anger.

Denmark's long arm immediately encircled the boy's slim shoulders. The Dane's other hand cupped the underside of Iceland's chin, forcing him to look into the handsome man's face. Iceland tuned one shade darker, but it was different than before – Iceland was painfully reminded of his crush on the man before him. Denmark always knew how to cheer Iceland up, and out of the comforting Iceland had begun to grow feelings of deeper affection. However, since Denmark had shown up with that dangerous look upon his countenance, Iceland hadn't once thought of his awkward, unrequited love for the older man. The crush had been pushed aside by fear.

"Iceland. You wouldn't leave me, would you?"

Had Denmark asked any time before now, Iceland wouldn't have dreamt of it. Being owned by Denmark was probably as close as the two were going to get. But Iceland could see the insanity in the other's eyes – if he said no, he'd be lying, but he'd also keep the Dane calm.

So he lied. "I wouldn't even think of it."

The blonde softly sighed in contentment. "Good. I'm glad."

Sensing that the danger had passed, Iceland squirmed slightly, beginning to grow uncomfortable with their proximity. Denmark remained oblivious. "Say, has anyone told you that you look like your brother?"

Iceland stiffened. He really didn't like where this was going… Apparently his senses had lied, because Iceland could now see the rabid fire return to the older man's eyes tenfold.

The arm on his shoulder inched upwards to tease his silver hair before sliding down to rest on his lower back. The hand cupping his chin gradually made its way down his slight frame, brushing his groin – at which Iceland shakily whimpered at the slight touch – and sliding under his lower thighs. With barely any effort, the Dane slid the teenaged boy onto his lap. Denmark leaned forward, and whispered huskily in his ear. "Norge and I used to have…fun back in the day. I'm sure that you and I could do the same thing…"

With that, Denmark roughly seized a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck and crashed his lips to Iceland's.

Blushing furiously, Iceland tightly shut his eyes to quell the oncoming threat of tears. He had wanted this for awhile, indeed. But he had never wanted it like this.

'But who am I to discriminate?' he thought. 'No one ever pays me any attention. Why should I turn it away when I'm finally granted with it?' He began to tentatively return the kiss.

It may not have been the way he wanted it – he'd imagined his first kiss, his first time, to be much more gentler – but he'd wanted it. Desired it.

And he wasn't going to turn such an offer down.

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><p>When Iceland awoke atop a snoring Denmark the next morning, he ached in so many ways. His back was sore from sleeping oddly. His rear end felt like it had been split in two. Bruises littered his body at seemingly random spots, save for the two dark hand shaped marks on his hips.<p>

But worst was the mental ache. Half of his mind screamed in anger at having been violated, humiliated, and dominated so mercilessly, repeatedly. Yet the other half of his mind purred contentedly, happy at having been paid attention to. Even if Denmark had yelled Norway's human name everytime he came. Because attention was good, which meant that their new deal was good, right?

Right?

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><p><em><strong>AN: So hey, long time no see. I kinda forgot about this...but then I remembered all my epic followers and shit, and then this baby popped out. In one sitting. Looks like these chapters are finally lengthening, right? 1400 words...<strong>_

_**Notes:**_

_*** According to wikipedia, they peacefully resigned.**_

_*** Denmark came by boat, because of the time period (no planes?)**_

_*** King of Annoyance = pun on King of Nordics**_

_*** remission - I tend to think that disorders affect natins differently (ALSO: I based the bi-polar disorder off of my own experiences, so it is not perfect.)**_

_**Also, love fades, so that's why in present day Iceland doesn't care too much about Denmark boffing Norway.**_

_**I can kind of imagine this happening to Canada, since he's all ignored.**_

_**Review, please? I'm desperate.**_


End file.
